of dislocation & graceful unravelling

Bertrand Carrière: Coin du Banc, Gaspésie, Québec, Canada, 2010 
from the Après Strand series (via FlakPhoto).

Belle & Sebastian: “Dirty Dream #2”

Shot in Athens; I’ve seen this many times before but only just realized my old house is in it!

landlockedmermaid:

“Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”

— Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell

(via ponys)

Douglas Ljungkvist: Untitled, Ocean Beach, New Jersey, 2013
(via DailyServing)

aviridianexpanse:

t-minus five…four…three

Is this Adam’s mom’s house?

(via impossibletospell)

Clarence John Laughlin: The House of Hysteria

R.i.P. Spillage III | 02.27.11| selenographie

Before everyone moved out of Spillage Home for Wayward Youth (where I served three years as House Mom), we returned to photograph all the drawings on the walls, etc. This is a “historical” old home in Athens as well as historically being a hippie/punk/party house all the way back to the ’60s. The new residents had all the trash hauled off, repainted, repaired the kitchen and bathroom, and now it’s like a dream house! Sometimes they still throw shows there and I get all nostalgic and a little jealous that during my run we were unable to get the place real cleaned up and functional, but moreso I’m glad that another friend was able to achieve such a fine accomplishment.

R.i.P. Spillage II | 02.27.11| selenographie

Before everyone moved out of Spillage Home for Wayward Youth (where I served three years as House Mom), we returned to photograph all the drawings on the walls, etc. This is a “historical” old home in Athens as well as historically being a hippie/punk/party house all the way back to the ’60s. The new residents had all the trash hauled off, repainted, repaired the kitchen and bathroom, and now it’s like a dream house! Sometimes they still throw shows there and I get all nostalgic and a little jealous that during my run we were unable to get the place real cleaned up and functional, but moreso I’m glad that another friend was able to achieve such a fine accomplishment.

R.i.P. Spillage I | 02.27.11| selenographie

Before everyone moved out of Spillage Home for Wayward Youth (where I served three years as House Mom), we returned to photograph all the drawings on the walls, etc. This is a “historical” old home in Athens as well as historically being a hippie/punk/party house all the way back to the ’60s. The new residents had all the trash hauled off, repainted, repaired the kitchen and bathroom, and now it’s like a dream house! Sometimes they still throw shows there and I get all nostalgic and a little jealous that during my run we were unable to get the place real cleaned up and functional, but moreso I’m glad that another friend was able to achieve such a fine accomplishment.

i didn’t know i wanted to until i did

i had the kind of nightmare when you think you’ve slept for hours but it’s only been 20 minutes (don’t they say dreams really only last seconds at most?) — and when you wake up you have to turn on every light in the house to make sure, even though it wasn’t even very frightful at all. it was just c. & i but we laid in my childhood bedroom. i heard noises in the house, drunken clanking around, but he got scared and hid under the covers in the other bed (i used to share a room with my sister, and the beds faced each other). so i went to the door and everything was giant-sized, like a child’s-eye view, except we were still grownups, and i could perceive every minute detail of the door — the heavy bolt of the lock and the thick layers of black paint built up on the cracked wood, and the fake plastic crystal doorknob and the outdated skeleton keyhole. i peeked through the space between the uneven jamb and saw a shadow of a man kicking walls and he yelled, but he’s so UGLY, why do you let it happen, and it was c. in a rage even though little tender c. was also in the room with me, and i woke up thinking, of course, he likes to joke about having split personalities but actually drunk is like that sometimes. i thought about how in the book The Long Haul, her pet name for The Alcoholic is monster.

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